A Family For Christmas (22 page)

Taking a key from his pocket with a flourish,
Monsieur Farrant unlocked the door. At once Eliza's senses were assailed by the
intoxicating scent of roses.

‘It is wonderfully aromatic, yes?'
Monsieur beamed. ‘The fragrance of the Bulgarian rose is second to none. Now your rose
from the moors pales into insignificance, yes?'

‘Actually, I like the freshness that rose
invokes, Monsieur. It is like … oh, I don't know, the smell of innocence,' she
said, remembering the look of wonder on her young brothers' faces when she'd taken
them out to smell the wild flowers. To her chagrin, he roared with laughter.

‘Oh, Mademoiselle, you have much to learn.
Do you really think the rich men who grace my establishment wish to pay for the smell of
innocence? Non, they want the exotic, the exciting aroma of experience. Now, you will begin your
duties by polishing those scent bottles until you see your face in the amber crystals,
oui?'

Hurt by his dismissive attitude, she snatched up
a cloth and walked over to the glass cabinet where all the bottles were displayed. To her eye,
they already gleamed like gold, but not wishing to be taken for a fool again she duly began to
polish them. They were quite exquisite, all in differing shapes and sizes. As her fingers traced
their elegant lines, she found herself imagining them filled with different coloured
perfumes.

‘Why are they all in this dark colour,
Monsieur?' she couldn't help asking.

‘What colour would you suggest, hmm?'
he asked, looking up from the ledger he was studying.

‘Well, if the glass was clear, people would be able to see
the exciting liquids inside,' she said, her voice rising with enthusiasm.

Monsieur Farrant winced. ‘We do not speak
loudly in here, Mademoiselle. The perfumery, it is a sanctuary, an oasis of calm with fragrance
carried on the air.'

The bouquet in the room was indeed wonderful but
as he stood there waving his arms around, Eliza sincerely hoped his own peculiar scent
wouldn't be wafted her way.

‘And as for clear bottles? Non, non,
non,' he continued, wagging his finger at her. ‘We use the dark glass for a very
good reason, Mademoiselle. It is so that the fragrance lasts. In the clear bottle it would
evaporate, non?'

‘Oh,' she said, feeling stupid.
Vowing not to ask any more questions, she turned back to the bottles, imagining how her labels
would look on them. Suddenly she had an idea.

‘Monsieur?'

‘Oui, Mademoiselle?' he sighed,
barely able to conceal his exasperation.

‘Wouldn't the labels for the
Christmas perfumes look more festive if the script was in colour rather than black?'

He gave a loud sigh. ‘Please do not concern
yourself with such detail, Mademoiselle. It takes years of expertise to understand what the
client wants. Perhaps you could concentrate on the job you are suited to, like the dusting,
non?' he snapped.

But as she picked up her cloth, she saw him
frowning at the amber bottles.

‘I shall be but a moment,
Mademoiselle,' Monsieur Farrant said a few seconds later. She nodded and watched as he
hurried from the room, shiny shoes squeaking on the polished tiles.

Eliza made sure the bottles were polished to
perfection, then took advantage of being alone to explore. The perfumery was a delightful place
designed to tempt the buyer with its attractive array of merchandise. In fact it had all sorts
of things you wouldn't know you wanted until you saw them. She took great delight in
investigating the contents of all the bottles, sniffing the flagons of tester perfumes and
squeezing the tops of the atomizing sprays, laughing when they squirted little puffs of air in
her face. Compared to the sterile laboratory, this was a paradise of fragrance and she hoped to
spend more of her time working in here. She might even secrete Fay's little black bottle
into her apron pocket and compare the faint aroma that still lingered.

When Monsieur Farrant returned he showed Eliza
round the stockroom and directed her where he wanted the new bottles to be displayed. She became
so entranced with arranging everything, she hardly noticed his presence. It was only when he
told her it was time for her to leave that she realized the working day was over.

‘I will escort you to the main hall. I
suggest you go straight
to your room and study
your notes,' he said. ‘Cook has been asked to leave a light supper in your room so
you will not have to interrupt your studying to go to the staff dining room. Tomorrow, I shall
not be in the laboratory until late morning, so you can ensure it is cleaned then,
non?'

‘Thank you, Monsieur. I have really enjoyed
being in the perfumery today. Please can I work here again soon?'

He raised his eyebrows but didn't answer.
Instead, he led the way back down the hallway, past the erotic mural and into the hall. ‘I
will see you tomorrow, Mademoiselle, and trust you have your answers ready for my
questions,' he instructed. He smiled but she could feel his eyes boring into her back as
she made her way along the corridor. Probably worried I was going to take a sneaky peek
upstairs, she thought.

In her room the tray was set on the little table
and even before lifting the cloth, she knew what she would find. She spread the bread with the
spicy hazelette then settled down to read the notes, determined to be ready for Monsieur's
test the next day. They made fascinating reading and soon she was lost in the world of perfume
and its origins. It was only when the shadows were gathering and she could no longer make out
the words that she set them aside. Deciding a stroll across the yard to get some fresh air and
visit the privy would be a good idea, she took herself outside.

It was a cool night and myriad stars were
sparkling in the heavens, like the crystals of the huge chandelier in the hall of the main
house. A night for frost, her grampy would have said. She sighed, still missing him after all
this time, then impulsively plucked a late bloom from the border, vowing to place it in her box.
Pulling her jacket
tighter round her, she hurried
back towards the staff wing before the door was locked at curfew. Suddenly, the sound of
merrymaking drifted her way and, looking up, she saw the silhouettes of three young men outlined
in the flickering gaslight. A burst of raucous laughter followed, then Monsieur Farrant snapped
the window shut, drew the curtains and all went quiet.

Next morning Eliza was busy putting up her hair
when there was an urgent rapping on her door.

‘Come in,' she called, recognizing
Mimi's knock.

‘Monsieur Farrant says you're to go
straight to the laboratory,' the little maid panted in the doorway. Eliza was about to ask
why, when she saw the girl was agitated.

‘Is something wrong, Mimi?'

‘He said you was to hurry,' she
answered, ignoring her question.

‘Tell him I'm on my way.'

The girl nodded and scuttled off, leaving Eliza
wondering what Monsieur Farrant could want of her at this early hour. Hadn't he said he
wouldn't be in the laboratory until later?

Quickly fixing the net over her bun, she turned
to check her reflection, then made her way into the main house. As she passed the dining room,
the smell of toasting bread made her stomach rumble and she hoped Monsieur wouldn't take
long.

However, when she opened the door to the
laboratory it was an entirely different aroma that assailed her nostrils.

‘Goodness, something smells strong,'
she said, wrinkling her nose. Then she noticed the man in uniform standing beside Monsieur
Farrant.

‘Oh, have I interrupted something?' she asked,
looking from one to the other.

Monsieur Farrant shook his head. ‘Indeed
you have not.'

‘Yes, I'm afraid you have,' the
constable responded at the same time. Bewildered, Eliza stared from one to the other.

‘That was a very good observation,
Mademoiselle,' Monsieur Farrant continued. ‘You are absolutely right, for compared
to the delicate fragrances we inhaled in the perfumery yesterday, this is indeed pungent. You
see, Constable,' he said, turning to the police officer, ‘Mademoiselle here is one
of my best pupils and I like to set the little tests for her. When I call, she jumps, is that
not right, Eliza?'

‘Er, yes,' she answered. What was
going on?

‘Monsieur Farrant, I really must ask you
some questions,' the constable insisted, but again Monsieur ignored him.

‘Today I have lit the incense for
Mademoiselle to identify. Now why is incense significant, Eliza?' His eyes seemed to bore
right into her as he waited for her answer.

Eliza gulped and thought back to the notes
she'd been reading the previous evening. ‘Because it was the original
perfume,' she said.

He clapped his hands. ‘See, Constable, she
is clever, non? Now we will move on to the attarwalla.'

Eliza gulped. Attar what? But Monsieur Farrant
was in his stride.

‘The attarwalla was the perfume seller. He
would visit the grand palaces of India and …' He was interrupted by the constable
coughing.

‘This is all very interesting, Monsieur Farrant, but if you
insist on ignoring my question, I shall have to report back to my superior. In the meantime, I
must caution you that your activities are being watched.'

Again Monsieur Farrant ignored him. ‘It is
a shame you cannot stay for more of our lesson, Constable. Another time, perhaps?'
Monsieur Farrant invited.

‘Be sure I shall return with some questions
of my own,' the man said, placing his helmet firmly on his balding head as he strode away.
Eliza got the feeling he had every intention of coming back but not for a lesson on the attar
whatsit. She wondered what questions he wanted to ask Monsieur Farrant and what activities of
his were being watched. He'd been determined to ignore the constable.

‘That showed him, did it not?'
Monsieur Farrant said, butting into her thoughts and giving a supercilious grin. ‘It is
always good to show who is master in his own castle. You answered the questions well, Eliza. It
is good you read my notes, non?'

‘I don't remember anything about the
attar …'

‘Not to worry,' he interrupted,
waving his hands in the air. ‘Interesting though it is, attarwalla is not really part of
the course and the incense was just a smoke screen anyway,' he chuckled as he looked at
the little burning cones.

‘I wasn't expecting you to be up so
early, Monsieur, especially after your party last night.'

Monsieur Farrant's eyes narrowed to green
slits and his moustache bristled.

‘And what party might that be?' he
hissed.

‘The one upstairs. I heard laughter, saw those young men
and …'

‘You saw and heard nothing, Mademoiselle
Eliza. Absolutely nothing, understand?' He leaned towards her and she smelled his own
particular smell. It really was peculiar and she much preferred the incense. But Monsieur was
still glowering. ‘Clean this place up immediately; it is like a piggery,' he
snapped.

He stormed from the room, leaving her alone with
her thoughts. She knew what she'd seen, all right. Had the constable's visit had
anything to do with the revelry of the previous night?

‘Someone's up bright and
early,' Amos chirped, breezing into the room. Then he saw the burning incense and looked
at Eliza in surprise.

‘Oh, no, this has nothing to do with
me,' she declared, shaking her head then explaining about the constable's visit.

‘I think it might have something to do with
the party Monsieur had last night, although when I mentioned I'd seen young men upstairs,
he denied it. Anyway, the constable said he'd be back,' she said, shrugging.

‘Eliza, there are rumours about …
happenings here. Things you're better off not knowing. Be very careful what you say to
Monsieur, and for heaven's sake never venture upstairs,' Amos advised.

‘That sounds sinister.'

‘Forewarned is forearmed, isn't that
what they say?'

‘Never could understand why having four
arms would help anything,' she quipped.

‘You are impossible,' he grinned.
‘Now, Mademoiselle,
this place it is a
disgrace. We should clean up immediately, non?' he said, throwing his hands up in the
air.

Eliza grinned, pleased they were back to their
usual friendly banter.

As she set about disposing of the incense, she
spotted a fresh pile of labels along with three pots of different coloured ink. ‘Oh, no,
me and my big mouth,' she cried.

‘What have you put in it this time?'
joked Amos.

‘I suggested to Monsieur the labels on the
Christmas perfumes would look more celebratory if they were scripted in colour,' she
cried, pointing to the counter.

‘Well, at least you'll be too busy to
go sleuthing,' he grinned, then ducked as she threw the cleaning cloth at him.

Knowing she had no choice, Eliza settled down to
her task. However, as she pictured the respective titles scripted in gold, green or red she
nodded her head in satisfaction. Her idea might mean extra work but she could imagine how
festive the little bottles would look, especially if they were grouped in their various colours
on the shelves. She picked up her pens and by the time Amos invited her to share his noon piece,
the little pile of labels had grown.

‘You'd better be careful,' he
quipped, admiring her handiwork as they munched on the bread his landlady had baked. ‘If
you continue having these bright ideas, Monsieur will think you're making a takeover
bid.'

They didn't see Monsieur for the rest of
the day and when the little bell rang, signalling the arrival of a client, it was Amos who went
to the perfumery to deal with them. That evening, when Eliza joined the staff in the dining
room for supper, they were agog to find out the
details of the constable's visit, which they had all heard about.

‘I don't really know why he was
here,' Eliza said carefully. ‘He did say he'd be back, though.' That was
enough to set the tongues wagging and speculation was rife for the rest of the meal.

Afterwards, as they sat relaxing over their cups
of tea, Mimi turned to Eliza.

‘When I went home on Sunday, Toby asked
Father's permission to become my follower. We're walking out on my next day off, so
if it's all right with you I'm going to wear your lovely skirt. It washed up a
treat,' she said, hardly able to contain her excitement.

Cook looked up and frowned. ‘I'm
sorry, dearie, that's the last Sunday before Advent, Stir-up Sunday. We'll be too
busy making the Christmas cakes and puddings for you to take that day off,' she said.

Mimi's face fell. ‘But I can't
cook so why do you need me?' she wailed.

‘To stone the fruit, grease and line the
tins, then wash up all the pots and pans.'

‘But …' the little maid
spluttered.

‘Perhaps it would be possible for Mimi to
take her day off a little earlier?' suggested Eliza, feeling sorry for the little
maid.

‘Well, I don't see why not. What do
you think, Mrs Symms?' Cook asked, deferring to the housekeeper.

‘Wouldn't do no harm to take the
Saturday, I suppose,' the woman sniffed.

Mimi brightened. ‘I'll ask Amos to
pop a note through me mum's door on his way home tomorrow.'

‘Will you be spending Christmas here with us, Eliza?'
Dawkins asked.

Eliza stared at him in surprise. ‘I
hadn't given it any thought but I don't have anywhere else to go …' Her
voice trailed off as she remembered the terrible events of the previous year.

‘We have a lovely time, don't we, Mrs
Symms?'